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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486545">where my armor ends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromStarstuff/pseuds/FromStarstuff'>FromStarstuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, Gen, au where gerry and agnes are alive!! how you ask? idk man let me have this, complete butchering of the tma timeline, just. lots of fluff, some warm and fuzzy feelings, stuff happens eventually i promise you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:06:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromStarstuff/pseuds/FromStarstuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes people meet and they fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces, or interlocking pieces of armor. Such was the case with Gerry, Agnes, and Jon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>where my armor ends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gerry was confused.</p><p>	He was alive, and he shouldn’t have been. There was the cancer, and his time in the book, and probably about a million other reasons he should have been a rotting corpse by now, and yet he wasn’t. He was fairly certain the Archivist had burned his page, through some heavy guesswork and general estimation of the man’s character, but a short time after being removed from the Hunters’ custody, he had found himself suddenly catapulted out of the in-between and smacked back into reality, the same age he’d been when he had first died. Wearing the same clothes, too. </p><p>	He had reappeared in a back alley he didn’t recognize, had stood stock-still for a while, stared at his hands, gawked like an idiot, thrown up several times, pinched himself, screamed his throat raw, and eventually passed out. To his surprise, Gerry had woken up slumped against the cobblestones, a little sore but still seemingly alive. </p><p>	He felt awful, but at the same time better than he had in years. He didn’t hurt anymore. He supposed that wasn’t quite true, because his head was throbbing from where it had hit the ground, but it was nothing compared to his previous state. It didn’t feel like he had to strain to hold himself together, like he couldn’t breathe and the world was doing its level best to rip him apart, like he had been cut out of his life and pinned to a plane where nothing could survive, not the living nor the dead. He was whole, and complete, and a heartbeat thudded inside of him. He was free.</p><p>	There was probably a good explanation somewhere. He had several working theories; that the entities had fought and on a technicality he had been purged from their domains, that somehow the Archivist had triggered something when burning his page, that his entire existence was a fluke and the afterlife had rejected him. The one he barely dared to hope, however, was that Gertrude had bound him to the book not to trap his soul, but to preserve him until some bizarre ritual via her successor would revive him. It probably wasn’t rational, but some part of him scrambled to come up with explanations for the old woman’s actions. He hadn’t trusted her, exactly, but she had been the closest thing to a friend he had ever had. Despite everything, he missed her.</p><p>	He had no idea what to do next.</p><p>	For a while Gerry assumed it was some complex hallucination, or that he would eventually be yanked back into the land of the dead where he belonged. But...he wasn’t. After a while, he came to terms with the fact that he was alive again, and here to stay.</p><p>	He got a job at a library, managed to track down the savings from his long-closed bank account, rented a shitty room for dirt cheap. He got a new tattoo, read the newspaper, got groceries every Tuesday. Did every normal thing he could think of. Waiting, and waiting. Waiting for the supernatural to inevitably shove its way back into his life the way it always had.</p><p>	The thing was...it didn’t. Everything around him was stifling normal. No tragic accidents befell his neighbors, no mysterious rumors snaked their way into the town, no old faces showed themselves. As far as he knew, Gerry was successfully cleared from the Entity mailing list. He was completely extricated from the world he had so despised.</p><p>	He was content, for a while. He lived the normal life he had always wanted. He read, he sketched, he chatted with his coworkers. It was a month or two before he decided that this wasn’t him, either. It all felt a bit fake. It was hard to enjoy an average life when you know there was so much out there. </p><p>	It started with a Leitner (of course it did.) Gerry slowly began re-inserting himself into the channels he used to get information from: nothing that would alert avatars of his presence, but enough to get an inkling of what was going on in other circles. He checked the reliable websites, skimmed the coded newspaper ads, had a quick phone call with people like him; those who were experienced in the entities and paranormal, but watched from the outside instead of getting involved. After barely a week of research, he found the telltale signs of one of his old pulpy adversaries. </p><p>	Gerry had gotten so adept at hunting Leitners in his past life that locating and disposing of this one took less than two days. Nobody got hurt, and no one noticed him. It was a job well done. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn’t help smiling. This was what he wanted to do with his second chance at life. He wanted to help get rid of harmful supernatural influence without an entity staring over his shoulder. He would only do a little here and there, but ultimately he would be able to do some good with his specific brand of expertise.</p><p>	And so his life shifted yet again. He still had his day job, he still stayed careful and hidden. But in the evenings, or on weekends, or days where he had some free time, he sought out unusual occurrences and helped clean up the mess. He helped some people. Made them feel less alone, even if he couldn’t take away their awful memories. Gave some of them closure. It wasn’t much, but he was proud of the little he could do. (He still steered clear of the Magnus Institute, though he was curious about what was happening with the new Archivist. That conversation had been the only bright spot in years of despair, and ultimately maybe what had freed him.)</p><p>	After several months of this, he caught wind of a series of rumors that reeked of the Desolation. Repeated stories of arson and tragedy and unexplained accidents in the same area. Never in the same exact town, but close enough in proximity to each other that they couldn’t be unrelated. It followed a trackable pattern, one that maybe no one else would pick up on, but Gerry knew what to look for. Whatever Desolation avatar was making such a blatant fuss, he wanted to catch them. He had grown fond of his little corner of town, and the accidents were a little close for his comfort. He did some digging, and once he had narrowed it down to a small enough perimeter, he started interviewing the locals. After some top quality detective work, he had an address.</p><p>This was the series of events that led to Gerard Keay (though that was not his name, not anymore) standing outside the door to a fifth-floor apartment on a street called Kingsway, taking a deep breath and raising his fist to knock. </p><p>There was silence for a minute or so, but Gerry was patient. He heard sounds of shuffling inside, and thought that he might have to force his way in eventually, but then the lock clicked and the door slid open slightly.</p><p>He wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected, but he certainly had not anticipated seeing a young woman peeking into the hallway, with wary eyes and hair like tongues of flame. She studied him, looking him up and down and drawing back a bit as if waiting for him to make the first move. Recognition flooded through him instantly. He might have never met this woman in person, but he knew who she was.</p><p>	Of all the things he had expected, none of them were Agnes Montague.</p><p>	His lips parted, but it took him several moments to force them to form words. “Well,” he said, a bit lamely. “You’re not supposed to be alive.”</p><p>The corners of her mouth twitched upward in something that resembled amusement. “Neither are you,” she replied softly.</p><p>	Gerry cleared his throat, unsure of how to proceed. “This was...unexpected,” he exhaled finally. Questions raced through his mind. A lot of things didn’t add up. For one, everyone knew that Agnes was obviously dead, and had been dead for some time. For two, she wasn’t this young. Was she the one behind all the fires and murders? Was she dangerous? Should he be running right now? And come to think of it, was this even the real Agnes, or a trick from the Web?</p><p>He didn’t have time to think about these further, however, because Agnes chewed her lip thoughtfully and said, “Why don’t you come in, Mr. Keay?” She opened the door wider and stepped back, looking at him with an expression both expectant and curious. </p><p>	More than a little shocked, Gerry started. “Um…” That would probably be a very bad idea, seeing as Agnes Montague was an extremely dangerous avatar of the Desolation and a legendary figure in the world he was doing his best to avoid. </p><p>	Then again...it would be nice to get some answers. And Gerry never had been very good at staying away from danger. </p><p>	He accepted her invitation.</p><p>	Stepping into her apartment wasn’t like stepping into the apartment of a cult messiah. It was like stepping into the apartment he wished he’d been raised in. Nothing about it was sharp or intimidating; in fact, it was the opposite. To the left was a kitchen and dining table, to the right was a sitting room with a couch and a rocking chair. A hallway on the other side probably led to her bedroom. A basket of fruit was laid on the center of the table, a knitted woolen blanket was draped over the back of the couch, the sitting room’s coffee table was laden with magazines. Several pretty landscape paintings hung on the walls. The whole place was open and bright and smelled like rosemary. It was the kind of place that was cozy and familiar. It was the kind of place that felt like a home.</p><p>	While Gerry stood admiring the decor, Agnes looked almost embarrassed. She murmured something that sounded like “More than I deserve,” and Gerry frowned. Maybe she did have a conscience.</p><p>	Agnes gestured to the sitting room. “Please, sit. I’ll make some tea.” Before he could respond, she was already bustling around in the kitchen, so he shrugged and made his way to the couch. </p><p>	He sat in silence for a few minutes, fidgeting with a ripped seam in the sofa. Gerry noticed Agnes hummed softly to herself as she brewed the tea. It made him smile, for some reason.</p><p>	“I have to admit,” she said, handing him a steaming mug and settling into the rocking chair. “I didn’t expect such an...interesting visitor today.”</p><p>	He frowned, trying to decide if she was being accusatory, but her tone was at once so sincere and so distant that he couldn’t tell. “Yeah…” he replied slowly. “You weren’t what I was expecting, either.” Agnes’ eyes wandered about the room, then instantly refocused on his face when he started talking. It was a bit disconcerting, like the only thing tethering her to this world was the sound of his voice. Otherwise, she just drifted.</p><p>	It seemed to take her a minute to register his words, and then she smiled faintly. “I suppose we’re in something of the same boat, then.”</p><p>	Gerry grinned at her, leaning back on the couch. “Yup.” They stared at each other for a few moments, each waiting for the other to speak. Eventually, Gerry inhaled, and took the lead. “So. To recap. I technically died of cancer, but my soul was bound to this cursed book so I was something like a ghost for a lot of years, and then I got chucked back into the land of the living a few months ago. No idea why.” </p><p>	After a minute, Agnes blinked. “Oh.” She leaned backwards and forwards, the rocking chair squeaking slightly against the wood floor. She was quiet, and she looked across the room with squinting eyes like she was still trying to process what he had said, or deciding what to say next. Her fingers tapped the arms of the chair. Finally, Agnes stopped rocking and turned back to look at him. “I’m not...entirely sure how I’m here, either. When I died, I didn’t, erm, do it all the way. It was like part of me died. The part that was the Messiah, the chosen one who was going to scour the Earth with the Desolation, once and for all.” She sounded almost bitter, which was the strongest emotion Gerry had heard from her so far. “But the other part of me...the one that was just a person. It didn’t fully die. It kept trying to come back, but everything was so tangled up, and wrong, and I was stuck all alone in the in between place just fighting to come back while I was withering away in there-” Agnes got more worked up the more she spoke, and eventually was so upset that her voice broke and she fell quiet.</p><p>	Gerry wasn’t sure what to do, but her description sounded so much like it was living in the book, that he couldn’t help empathizing with her. She was shaking a little, looking down at the floor with her hands clamped around each other. Hesitating a little, Gerry said, “I’m...sorry.”</p><p>Agnes sniffed, looking up at him like she’d forgotten he was there. “Hm?”</p><p>“I said...I’m sorry. That must have been awful.” He scratched his neck, feeling awkward.</p><p>Agnes, however, looked amazed. “Oh,” she said again, shocked by such a simple kindness. Gerry realized that he felt for her, then. She might have been a monster once but she certainly wasn’t now. She was just like him: alone, a little lost, and tormented by a life she hadn’t chosen.</p><p>	Anxious to change the subject, he cleared his throat. “But, you’re here now.”</p><p>	Agnes nodded. “It happened a few months ago. I think everything with the powers has calmed down a bit. Or maybe it’s even worse than before and I managed to slip through the cracks while they weren’t looking? I’m not sure.”</p><p>	“Yeah, me neither. Never thought resurrection would be so common.”</p><p>	This got a little tinkling laugh from her, which felt both exceedingly strange and a kind of accomplishment. “I think we’re the special cases to that rule.” She paused, remembering something. “I am curious, though. How did you find me? It didn’t seem like I was what you were looking for.”</p><p>	“Ohh, yeah, I nearly forgot. Was chasing some arsonist who was definitely a Desolation avatar, not even being subtle about it. Asked around for suspicious activity, and some old woman downstairs ratted you out,” he replied.</p><p>	Agnes huffed quietly. “Eunice. She’s had it out for me ever since I skipped her building-wide brunch.” She smiled faintly at the end of that, and Gerry couldn’t help laughing. So she does have a sense of humor, he thought.</p><p>	He shook his head. “I mean. I’m assuming you weren’t the ones behind all those fires.”</p><p>	“Ah, no. It was those idiots from the Lightless Flame.” She nearly spat out the words. “They managed to sniff me out, somehow. Ran me out of three towns before this one.”</p><p>	Gerry froze. “You mean...they know you’re alive?” He was suddenly feeling not very safe.</p><p>	Agnes frowned. “I don’t think so. They don’t know it’s me, at least. They think I’m some as of yet unrecruited new Desolation avatar. They keep trying to draw me into the open with...fires? Murders? As if those were appealing?” She squirmed a little in her chair. “Those aren’t me anymore. They’re not.”</p><p>	“You’re right.” Sentimental pep talks weren’t necessarily Gerry’s specialty, but Agnes looked like she needed one. “Agnes, you died. You went through hell and came back. What was it you said? That part of you, the part that was Desolation, it’s dead and gone. You’re just Agnes now.”</p><p>	Agnes looked at him with tear-filled wide eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Keay,” she said quietly.</p><p>	“It’s Gerry.” He heard himself say it without thinking it. “I mean...you can call me Gerry. If you want.”</p><p>	“Okay.” She smiled, then stared back across the room, contemplative. “I just...I just wonder. Who I am now. All of that...the Desolation, the Entities, they were my whole life for so long. I wonder who I am without it.”</p><p>	“Whoever you want to be,” Gerry replied with a shrug. “Apparently, an undead woman with an affinity for making tea.” He set the empty mug down on one of the magazines with a smirk. It really had been good tea. He had sipped on it throughout the conversation.</p><p>	She laughed again. It was soft, and musical. Gerry thought that he liked the sound of her laugh. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again.</p><p>	Glancing at his watch, Gerry sucked in a breath. “I, uh, I’d better go,” he announced. “My shift starts soon.” He stood up from the couch and gave Agnes an apologetic smile. “It was nice to meet you, though.”</p><p>	“You as well.” She led him back to the door and opened it for him. </p><p>	He lingered there, for a second. He found himself not wanting to leave. Gerry turned to Agnes. “Would you, uh. Would you mind if I came by sometime?” He bit his lip, shrugging. “It’s just been the most interesting afternoon I’ve had in a while.”</p><p>	Agnes smiled warmly. “You’re welcome anytime, Gerry.”</p><p>	Maybe he could come back, he told himself as he left the apartment and the building and the town. Maybe he could come back there sometime soon. Just to see her smile again. It would be worth it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyyy thanks for reading, if you somehow stumbled upon this! Title from Pluto by Sleeping at Last. I'm not sure how many chapters this will be but stay tuned for soft times with the addition of Jon</p></blockquote></div></div>
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